by Ari Rhoge
“Road work in the pouring rain,” Richard said, dully. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“It's from earlier in the week. They're still unsafe,” Darcy said, sighing. He rubbed his eyes.
“You want me to drive?” Lizzy offered, softly. He caught her eye in the rearview mirror, and shook his head.
“The girls should stay over,” Richard said, seriously. Darcy looked over at him. “No, I mean it. You could easily, easily be stuck driving for another four hours, Will. And we're not even close to the Staten Island Expressway. And tomorrow's Sunday, at any rate — nobody's dashing off to work just yet.”
“I don't wanna impose—” started Charlotte.
“Have you seen his place in the city?” Richard interrupted, looking at her from over his shoulder. “Huge. There's a guest bedroom, too.”
“And a pull-out in the living room.” Darcy was starting to agree. He looked at Lizzy. “What do you think? I'll drive you home first thing in the morning.”
“I just want a hot shower and clean sheets,” Charlotte murmured. Her head was on Lizzy's shoulder.
“Done. —— Lizzy?”
“Fine by me. Just get us back safely, yeah?”
• • •
Elizabeth had never been to Darcy's place in Manhattan, nor was she prepared to wrap her mind around what the price tag might have been. Occasionally, she forgot he was rich — it made her feel strange. Everything in this apartment-cum-loft was cool, sleek, and contemporary. Back home, she had $2 posters fitted into frames, and most of her furniture was taken, secondhand, from her parents.
Charlotte could not have been happier. Freshly showered, she wandered around barefoot and in her pajamas, with her hair piled up in a towel–turban. She carried a hot cup of tea off to the guest bedroom, and crooned, “night, all!” And Richard, despite his natural energy, was eventually hit by the six-hour flight he had stayed up through. He passed out on Darcy's sofa — Lizzy had helped him put fresh sheets on the pull-out.
“Lizzy, you should definitely sleep here with me,” he mumbled, eyes falling shut.
Lizzy smiled. “I'll pass, Richard. I think I'll go to Charlotte's. Do you want anything before I go?”
“A sandwich,” were his last words of the night, before he began snoring softly.
And Lizzy, of course, had not wandered to Charlotte's, but had taken the obvious detour to Darcy's room. He was sitting in his bed with his reading glasses on, a leather portfolio open in his lap. He was scribbling notes into a yellow legal pad, and looked up when she shut the door. He smiled. “Glad you found your way back.”
“Had to fool the others,” Lizzy mock-whispered. “I don't have PJs — can I borrow a T-shirt?”
“Of course.”
Lizzy washed up in his bathroom, and came out five minutes later, her hair falling in messy waves onto her shoulders. She wore his old gym shirt, an oversize maroon one that grazed the tops of her thighs. Darcy smirked. “You do that a lot more justice than I do.”
She smiled, and crawled under the covers. God — she had not known her exhaustion until that very moment. Between the sheets, she felt herself dozing off in no time at all. And then Will was shaking her shoulder gently. “Wake up… Lizzy, wake up.”
“What?” Lizzy propped herself up, rubbing her eyes.
“You were mumbling in your sleep.”
“Oh.” She ran a hand through her hair. Will's light was off, his work long abandoned. She wondered how long she had been asleep for. It felt like no longer than five minutes, though it could have easily been an hour. He looked upset or concerned, and she couldn't tell which. “What's the matter? What was I saying?”
“Um.” Will cleared his throat. “Wickham. You said Greg Wickham. —— Just his name. Lydia's too.”
“Oh.”
“I don't —— yeah.”
“Oh. Oh, my God, Will. Don't be silly. I don't — me and Greg Wickham, that's… no.”
He looked instantaneously relieved. But then he said, “well, he seems to be popping into your subconscious.”
“Well, I kind of saw him a couple weeks back. Sometimes I still get angry thinking about it.”
“You what?” echoed Will, in monotone. “You saw him. By yourself?”
“I'm a big girl.”
“A big girl who can't throw a correct punch.” He was scowling now, and had reached over to turn on the light. Lizzy squinted, and he brought her hand between his own.
“I think I broke his nose,” she said, quietly proud.
Will chuckled. “I wish you would have let me at him. You could have fractured your hand. Never use the flat parts of your fingers — just the first two knuckles.” His thumb brushed over knuckles, illustrating his advice.
“What, you're encouraging me, now?” Lizzy teased.
“Oh, there's no doubt in my mind — you'll kick whoever's ass you want to.” Will brought her hand up to his lips. For a flash of a second, Lizzy could have pictured them in a ballroom, circa 1810. And then the moment was gone when his iPhone vibrated with a text message.
She watched him sigh, type a response, and plug it back into the charger. And then, timidly, Lizzy said, “why didn't you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“You found Wickham.”
Will looked serious, then. The corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. “He told you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn't exactly leave him any choice.”
He didn't say anything. Lizzy sat up, urgent. “Will, how long after I left Pemberley until you got into a car yourself and went to go look?”
Will hesitated. “About an hour.”
“You're so silly.”
“I—”
She cut him off with a kiss. He cupped her face in his hands, and kissed back, their lips brushing softly. Lizzy rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were closed. Then she heard his deep voice, barely a murmur — “I did it for you. Everything has its motive. I'm not that good of a person—”
“Shut the fuck up. Yes, you are.”
“Well, you threw the punch, so you've done a lot more than I could ever hope to do.”
“Shut up. I don't even know where to begin, Will. —— I owe you so much.”
“You don't owe me anything, Lizzy. Don't make a big deal out of it.”
“I'm not! I'm making a normal deal out of it!”
Will laughed, smiling. “Is this a backward-Lizzy way of saying thank you?”
“Thank you,” Lizzy said, honestly, whole-heartedly. She felt other words bubble up in her throat — unspoken risky words — and was quick to purse her lips. Instead, she kissed him again. She was sitting in his lap now, and his hands were at the small of her back, under the filched T-shirt.
“You're welcome.” He kissed her on the neck.
“Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky. You are so sneaky.”
“Yep.” Will brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. His fingertips grazed her bottom lip. Lizzy was smiling. And he couldn't stop himself. “I love you…” Will said, soft but certain, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. “——Girl who crashed my car, I love you.”
“I…” Lizzy felt her entire face flush, her heart thundering in her chest. “I didn't have my turn signal on.”
28
—
Disrupt, Corrupt, Interrupt Me
Charlotte pawed at her face and scrunched her nose. Vaguely, she heard her name being called, but was unable to discern whether she was dreaming or awake. It wasn't until she opened her eyes and saw Lizzy's face looming over hers that she jolted upright with a gasp.
Lizzy was dressed. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail, and was already wearing makeup. She had a flat foundation brush pointed at Charlotte's face — the equivalent of an irritating feather, which she had used to awaken her best friend during their younger years at sleepovers.
“Oh, good! You're up.” She slung her purse strap over her shoulder, and got up from the bed. “We'll stop by Wawa on the way, for co
ffee. I, for one, am wired. I raided Will's pantry, found some Swedish energy drink in there.”
Charlotte propped herself up on her elbows. “What time is it?”
“A little after five.”
“In the morning?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus Christ, Lizzy.” She flopped back down onto the mattress.
“What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to leave. There's a cab waiting for us outside. You don't even have to pay for the most expensive cab fare that ever fared.”
“Well that's generous of you,” Charlotte muttered, groggily. “Any particular reason you're bolting from your beloved in the wee hours of the morning?”
“He is not my beloved.”
“Oh, please! I was just kidding with you in the car.” She sat up again. “You think it's not obvious you're together? Richard knows too, of course.”
Lizzy's face looked ashen. Her voice grew small. “Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe it's just a rumor.”
“Please. You didn't have a rumor phase — it went straight from they hate each other to clearly, they are fucking.”
“I despise you, a lot.”
Charlotte curled up, and pulled her cover over her shoulders. “Relax. Enjoy it. He's cute. He adores you. He stared at you all through my wedding ceremony. Your babies will be beautiful —— and sarcastic.”
“I don't want babies.”
“You will want his babies.”
“He loves me.”
Charlotte glanced up. There was a long stretch of silence. She took in the miserable, frazzled expression on her best friend's face, noticed the dark circles that rimmed her eyes. “Wow. You are terrified.”
“Yes.”
“Is this about Steven?”
“Yes.”
“Honey.” Charlotte pulled her in for a hug, and Lizzy pressed her cheek into her friend's shoulder. “Do you…”
“No. —— I don't know. —— Can we go home?”
She nodded. “Okay. Let me just leave word with Richard.”
• • •
Steven Kennedy was a medical intern at St. Agnes Hospital when Lizzy first met him. He was in the middle of his residency, and his attending physician had been Lizzy's doctor when she was wheeled into the ER on Easter Sunday after being 'playfully' hip-checked down the basement stairs by her cousin, Harry Phillips. She took to him immediately — he was fucking adorable. Curly dark hair, warm brown eyes, a guitar pick on a chain around his neck, hidden carefully beneath the neckline of his green scrubs. Freckles. Terrible singing voice. Both of them were outgoing, social, funny, and charming. They sparked immediately. He wanted her number, notwithstanding the mascara she had splattered down both cheeks. She wanted to know why.
They dated for eight months before he told her that he loved her, adored her, couldn't imagine life without her. Steven told her this in a laundromat. Folding each other's delicates because the apartment they shared in Bensalem did not include utilities. Lizzy, sensible as she was, chewed this over for a good three weeks before she reciprocated her feelings, this being the first boy she had ever truly loved.
How could you not? He was so friggin' understanding and supportive. She could talk to him about anything. Her parents adored him. Her sisters crushed on him instantly. Steven accompanied them all on family vacations.
The engagement came as a natural consequence. It seemed like the perfect time, too. They had been living together for about a month. Lizzy had finally stopped job hopping and student teaching — she had secured a steady position as a kindergarten teacher, at one of the best suburban public schools in the district. Steven had finished his residency.
Mama Bennet was annoyingly, and blissfully, in raptures — the entire town had to know that her second daughter (“certainly no beauty of the family, but reasonably pretty, don't you think, Phoebe Lucas?”) was engaged to a handsome, perfectly mannered doctor. They had the engagement party at an Italian restaurant. Steven's parents and brothers flew in from Ohio.
And Lizzy, ever so practical and careful of her heart, began to think that perhaps it was time to let go and stop trying to control everything. Jane encouraged her — it had been ruining her chances of happiness. Steven would kiss her at night, and tell her that she meant the world to him, that he was the luckiest guy in the world, that she had nothing to worry about. So, she stopped worrying about everything, and let herself dream about the life they would build together.
When he broke up with her, it wasn't pouring rain, and it wasn't at a pivotal, soul-searching moment, either. Lizzy had been eating lunch alone in the cafeteria when Steven called her on the phone, scared shitless and overwhelmed about what their marriage would lead to. She listened patiently outside, one hand covering her ear, her brow deeply furrowed. She willed him to calm down. Perhaps his job had contributed to the stress, but Steven insisted — it was their relationship.
He wasn't ready to have kids. He wasn't sure if he wanted kids. He wasn't ready for the responsibilities of marriage. Lizzy reminded him that these were modern times. Their marriage could be whatever they wanted it to be — she sure as hell didn't know if she wanted children yet, either. But in his mind Steven had already ended things, told her that he just “couldn't do this”, and that they had to stop. He was already looking for another job in Tucson.
It gutted her. She moved out within the week, and settled into Charlotte's apartment. Lizzy spent a good few weeks crying. She threw herself into work, and took on other responsibilities. She became the assistant coach for the Junior Fins, the school's student swim team, accidentally lost 10 pounds, and then dusted herself off, moved on.
He called her four months later, and left a message on her answering machine. He told her that he missed her, that he had made a huge mistake, and that he would be back in town next week if she wanted to grab dinner “for old time's sake”. Charlotte had been home at the time. She called him back, calmly told him to go fuck himself, and deleted the message from the machine. It had taken months for her best friend to pull herself back together — she wasn't going to let the dickwad pull Lizzy apart, especially when considering she was finally dating again.
• • •
Lizzy, lying face down into her pillow now, was thinking about him again. Her phone kept ringing — it was hitched into its charger, which was plugged into the outlet on the other side of the room. This was a good thing, too, because she wasn't sure if she would have the willpower to ignore it if it was within her reach.
She was being childish — she knew it, too.
Will wasn't Steven.
Steven wasn't Will.
Why shouldn't she give this a fair shot?
But every instinct within her was screaming for her to run before it had the chance to get ugly. And when Lizzy started to think about acknowledging her feelings, her throat closed up, her chest felt like it was going to cave in, and she felt the pin prickles of anxiety numbing her fingers.
Luckily, Jane had a key to her place. She stopped by on her way back from the mall, let herself in, and sat on the corner of Lizzy's bed. Then she thoughtfully split a pastry she had bought from Panera Bread, and offered it to her younger sister, who shook her head miserably. “Charlotte told me what happened,” Jane said. “I'm here for the sisterly support. Also, to pass on the message that Mom wants you home next Sunday.”
“Gross.”
“It's Dad's birthday. —— Is Lydia around? I need to remind her too.”
“She's out with a friend.” Lizzy sighed, thinking of her father. “I need to buy him another tie he won't like.”
“Then make it a gag gift — get him one that lights up.”
A beat. “Jane, sometimes you're brilliant.”
Jane beamed. She took her sister's hand. “Will called me. He wanted to know if you got home safe.”
“How did he sound?”
“Anguished, and hiding it.”
“I'm a really terrible person, Jane.”
Lizzy sighed, and rolled over onto her back. “He doesn't deserve this just because I'm neurotic and burned and… stereotypically awful.”
“So, what are you gonna do?”
Lizzy chewed on her bottom lip. “Ignore all my feelings until they curdle up inside me like bad milk. Become a bitter, cynical old hag. It's in the stars for me. I feel like it always has been.”
“You are shooting yourself in the foot — you realize that, yes?” Jane said, patiently.
Elizabeth smiled to herself, and started picking at the threads of her comforter. “You… are wearing a man's shirt.”
Jane's face flushed. Lizzy had noticed it right away — her sister was wearing a hunter-green men's button-down, belted around the middle as if it was designed to be. She wore it with black leggings, and had her messy blond hair pulled into a bun. Leave it to Jane to effortlessly walk out of a GAP catalogue.
“I might be.”
“So, how long has Charlie been back?” Lizzy smiled, cheekily.
Jane pursed her lips, and tried desperately not to laugh. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Tell me later?”
She was nodding. “Yes. Yes, definitely.” Jane kissed her sister on the forehead, then got up. “Your phone rang twice since I got here.”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to hand it to you?”
“No?”
Jane clicked her tongue, and unplugged the phone. She tossed it to Elizabeth, then blew her a kiss goodbye.
Lizzy looked at her phone.
(6) MISSED CALLS
She scrolled through. Five from Will — the most recent, however, had been from an undisclosed number with a 7-0-2 area code. Frowning, Lizzy's thumb hovered above the redial key when the phone began to buzz on its own. She picked up immediately. “Hello?”
An observant silence. “Miss Bennet? —— Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
